“My dear sweet Lucia. By the by, my dear, I forgot to ask your name—perhaps you'll oblige me with it now? Hell and the devil!—gone!" He looked around in vain. That’s who you ought to go and see, miss. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell.
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